


Pardon Me Chicken

by Hphantom6



Category: N/A - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 20:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6822040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hphantom6/pseuds/Hphantom6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe, instead of having horses, the world used giant chickens as their workhorses.  Much like with horses, the chicken race is going away.  The last chicken is a war hero, but with less people carring, only the soldier who had him could care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pardon Me Chicken

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little more hard-core than any of my others. The theme is a bit harsher, and the overall concept is way more dark than a fast-food mascots fall from power. The Teen rating is also partly due to the use of the C word. If you find it offensive, please leave now. 
> 
> This is your last warning.
> 
> OK. Enjoy.

**Pardon Me Chicken**

I mounted my mighty cock, and got set to ride.  I pulled up on his head, slapped his tail, and burrowed down in the small feathers of his neck.  Off we went.  The musty scent of my boy’s neck brought me way back, back to my days as a member of my lieges mounted forces.  In those days, he was but a chick at the time.  

    He started at a slow gallop, so I egged him on.  I slammed my feet in between my magnificent roost’s drumsticks and thighs as hard as I could.  If he had anymore feeling there, he was sure to have lost it.  He jumped up like he did in the old days, and flew off.  He only made it a good foot, as I held his wings down.  I always had to hold him down, else risk flying off into oblivious.  

    He always flew when he was frightened or shocked.  My first time I found out was quite the shock.  If it were not the efforts of four of my commanding officers, twelve handlers, and about eight of us new recruits, I’m quite sure I would have lost him then.  When I finally got up to him, he was shaking in a corner of the rafters.  When any of the others would come up to try and help, he would start crowing and trying to run away.  When I was alone with him up there, he would calm down, and let me hug him.  

    After a few short minutes, I knew we had to go down, so I climbed on his back, and spurred him on to fly away.  After a very bumpy glide down, I was pushed off and restraints were clamped to my bird.  If I were any older, I wouldn’t have fought to keep him around.  

    When he hit down, he burst in a quick sprint.  I kept my head down, as to keep us aerodynamic.  Last time I tried to sit up on him at full blast, I was caught in the wind.  By the time I hit the ground, he was 50 meters away.  

    That speed was vital to the war effort.  Given to me as a scout cock, we quickly earned rank as the commanding head of the Lord's scouting committee.  After the war dissolved, the new king of the land sent us to a spot in the new land acquired.  We were to build a powerful fortress and deal with the natives.  

    After doing a few laps, we slowed back down to head to the stable.  As the roost got closer, I noticed my old steed slowing.  He even started to try and run, attempting to turn away.  I had never seen him act like that, at least not since the first day I had him.  That, and the fateful day, at the fort we front ran.  

    I was on guard duty, as I was almost always kept back at home, while the others would go off and have all the fun. Now the fort was built, we were in the process of losing men left and right.  Command called back most men, thinking that the natives were too barbaric to bother with.  I was always sending back reports that the Barbs were becoming more advanced, taking in some of our weapons.  Today was the first day that a proper battle started up.  For the first time, the barbarians attacked us at the fort.  There only being thirty of us on post, the three hundred barbarians quickly overpowered us.  We held out for three hours until help arrived.  Only two of us made it out, my chick and I.  When the aid found us, even the two of us looked like swiss cheese.  

    After we were discharged due to his injuries, I brought him here, to the Chicken Run, aptly named after the great escape of 2000.  This was the only place I could bring him.  It was the only place willing to take in chickens anymore.  Now, any last riding chickens were being slaughtered for meat.  A new war effort was rising, and it was only a matter of time before I was called to go ahead and lead once more.  

    I finally got him to go in his cage, and was about to leave when I heard the sound that would end the day.  It sounded again, this time showing little more effect than the last.  

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. This was inspired by a photo of a man who was riding a giant chicken. Also QOTD, What is the oddest photo you have seen? Please leave your answer down below.


End file.
